Adam Lively: Writer – Literary Mentoring and Coaching

In my book, writers have a responsibility to be a bit precious about words. This doesn’t necessarily mean fusty traditionalism, or a King Canute-like resistance to the fluid, ever-changing nature of our language – it just means a certain hygiene and clarity. Think of it like linguistic flossing. . .

The word “conversation” is everywhere these days – in the media, in the workplace, even seeping into everyday (here it comes) conversation itself. People no longer have discussions or debates or negotiations or arguments or even blazing rows – they have conversations. Politicians in particular love the word for its friendly, consensual overtones – heaven forbid that grubby powerplays or hard-nosed deal-making should enter into a “conversation”. . .

All this, of course, is the worst kind of two-faced, smooth-talking euphemism. A “conversation” implies a relaxed and two-way communication between equals: when your boss asks you to come into his/her office for a “conversation about your recent performance”, you can be sure that what is envisaged is not a free-flowing exchange of ideas. . .

I wonder if the way the use of the word “conversation” has spread over the past decade or so, like a verbal mould, is a particularly British phenomenon. One of its biggest promoters is the BBC, who are particularly fond of the odious phrase “the national conversation”, with its misleading (to put it mildly) image of Britain as a place where everybody feels at home and included, and we all sit round in a circle in comfy chairs sipping tea and (of course) listening to the BBC (“Aunty Beeb”, or just “Aunty”, as the more sarcastic used to sometimes refer to it).

However, when I become Supreme Leader I will not ban the use of the word “conversation” entirely: it has its own particular and valuable place in the language. Through its historical roots, it implies a closeness that is not necessarily expressed verbally (the Oxford English Dictionary lists one of its earliest uses as “sexual intimacy”). The public sphere is not its natural environment – with strangers one must artificially “make conversation”. (This, incidentally, is the principal task for which the royal family are employed. As an introvert, I can’t imagine anything more excruciatingly onerous than having to spend one’s life exchanging small-talk with strangers: diehard republican though I am, I can’t help thinking that in this respect at least they earn their keep.)

No, conversation doesn’t find its true home on the TV chat show (small talk on a small screen) or the social media platform, but with old friends and family – people with whom one has a long intimacy (which is why they are so important for the fiction-writer – because they can reveal so much about relationships). Above all, perhaps, it’s between old friends that the truest and freest conversations take place – indeed the main reason that a friendship lasts a long time is that both parties value the conversations they’ve had. But that takes us on to the large and important topic of friendship (needless to say, I’m not talking here about Facebook “friends”) – an aspect of our humanity that is sorely undervalued in our culture. But that hobby-horse will have to wait for another blog. . .